


Kintsugi

by owlettica



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Complicated Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Repressed, Flirts with the line of smut without being actual smut, M/M, Melancholy, Memories, Nostalgia, Not A Fix-It, Not Beta Read, Post-Betrayal, Regret, Shameless references to Billie Holiday and Nina Simone, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Zsaszlepot kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 14:37:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13813251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlettica/pseuds/owlettica
Summary: Oswald Cobblepot is exquisitely broken.This fic takes place after Gotham ep 4x10, “Things That Go Boom” and dips a toe into 4b future fic territory.Y’all know the drill. I’m just a fan and am in no way associated with Gotham or FOX. I have no money. Please don’t sue me.





	Kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eller/gifts), [inappropriatefangirlneeds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inappropriatefangirlneeds/gifts), [Filthycasual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthycasual/gifts), [Shirl85](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shirl85/gifts), [snazzyzsaszy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=snazzyzsaszy).



Penguin had just won a strategic victory against Sofia Falcone. He duped her into thinking he’d killed Martín, thus eliminating him as a potential pawn in her pursuit to become Gotham’s newest sovereign.

Despite the triumph, he knew he couldn’t rest on his laurels or get too comfortable. His enemy had proven herself a masterful strategist and manipulator. It was only a matter of time before she returned and made another run at him. If not Sofia Falcone, another challenger would certainly set out to topple him before long.  
  
Still, the success of Penguin’s ruse came at great cost. It surprised him to discover how much he already missed his little co-conspirator. It seemed the greater his success, the higher the emotional price. As it was, Oswald had already lost so much: his mother, his father. Fish. Even Ed.

He never fathomed he had anymore to lose until he learned Martín had fallen into the hands of the sirens Kean, Galavan and Kyle at the behest of Sofia Falcone. Fortunately, he was able to save the boy —only to have to say goodbye. Oswald learned, after he ordered Zsasz to transport him to safety the previous night, that there indeed were still pieces of him that had not yet broken.

Penguin had grown extremely fond of the boy, but knew he couldn’t allow him to stay in Gotham. Martín had already endured entirely too much in his short life. Oswald couldn’t bear the thought of jeopardizing his safety again.

_“My boy. You did a splendid job of dying. Victor will take you to a safe location. You can never return to Gotham. This is goodbye, my friend_.”

Martín’s scribbled reply became blurry through Oswald’s misty eyes.

_“I don’t want to leave you.”_

_“There, there. This is what I have to do to protect you. One day, when you are older, you will understand.”_  
  
It seemed the harder Oswald pursued his ambitions, the more he lost. It was the reason he was so adamant that Victor not disclose Martín’s exact location —not even to him. Especially to him. He feared he’d be tempted to contact or visit him and somehow endanger him. After all, wasn’t love about “sacrifice”?

Oswald managed very little (if any) sleep that night. He was haunted by nightmares. He knew the boy was in Zsasz’s capable hands, but he couldn’t push away the nagging concerns about Martín’s safety or prevent his endless worry about all the things that could possibly go wrong.

—:—

After a restless night, he hoists himself out of bed once the morning rays begin peeking through the narrow slit between his drawn curtains. He long gave up entertaining hope he might actually manage to get any rest.

He draws himself a bath with vetiver and clary sage salts. A long, leisurely soak helps ease some of the muscle pain and fatigue from his restless night, but he still finds himself exhausted after rising from his bath.  
  
After Oswald grooms himself, he selects a dark blue pinstriped suit. As he looks through his ties, his fingers alight upon the blue brocade —the tie he selected the day he and Edward visited that school after he became Gotham’s newly-elected mayor. He planned to reveal his feelings to Ed that evening before things went so terribly wrong.

It surprises Oswald how much the memory still haunts him. Although it still hurts more than he cares to admit, he finds it no longer debilitates him as it once had. In a similar way, the tie has become somewhat of a talisman for him. He feels, if he continues wearing it, he can come to transmute the powerful emotions and memories he associates with it. Penguin knots and straightens the tie, before buttoning his waistcoat and slipping into his jacket. He arranges his pocket square before heading downstairs.

Penguin walks the floors of the quiet mansion. It’s rare that Oswald finds himself downstairs in the light of the morning anymore, not since the time he was mayor. He walks into the parlor and glances at the sofa by the fireplace where he used to sit with Edward.

_“I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me what you were doing.”_

_“Your shock, when seeing Butch, had to be genuine. The people had to believe it and they did. And once again, you’re the city’s hero.”_

_“You were almost killed.”_

_“And you saved me. Again. I hope you know, Oswald, I would do anything for you. You can always count on me.”_

Oswald shakes off the memory. So much had changed since then. He suddenly recalls the time he asked Tarquin, _“Do you believe in ghosts?”_

Penguin puffs out a long, tired sigh. He acutely feels the fatigue from his sleepless night. Perhaps some music will help. He shuffles to the victrola and finds a record already on it. He starts the device and drops the needle. The dramatic opening to [Billie Holiday’s “Don’t Explain”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=45YPO2FyXVI) begins.

_Hush now, don't explain_  
_Just say you'll remain  
I'm glad you're back, don't explain..._

  
Oswald recalls sitting alone at an elaborately prepared dinner table rehearsing what he planned to say to Ed. He remembers his increasing anxiety with each passing hour before the man finally returned home safely.

_Quiet, don't explain_  
_What is there to gain?_  
_Skip that lipstick  
Don't explain…_

_“When you didn’t come home, I assumed the worst. I am so glad you’re okay.”_

_...You know that I love you_  
_And what love endures_  
_All my thoughts of you  
For I'm so completely yours..._

_“I’m better than okay. I met someone. I think I’m in love.”_

Oswald grabs the closest thing he can find and throws it against a wall. The vase that once sat on his marble-topped table now lie in pieces on the floor.

—>z<—

Zsasz had just returned from carrying out Penguin’s orders to take Martín to safety.

He was still mulling over Sofia Falcone’s behavior when he intercepted her on the train. Victor didn’t like it. She acted as though she expected him to show up and they’d played right into her hands.

The entire time Victor transported the kid, he feared Penguin missed a critical opportunity to take out Sofia despite his assurances he had something better in store for her.

_What was it his zayde used to say? “The country's on fire and grandma is washing her hair.”_

Over the past several weeks, Victor found himself comparing Oswald’s increasing volatility to Don Falcone’s unflappable dignity. Still, Victor couldn’t deny the swell of pride he felt when the boss called him his “top man” and specifically entrusted him to transport the kid. It was a welcome change from the kingpin’s increasingly frequent rants and rages. While he always got a kick out of Penguin’s outbursts, they were becoming far less amusing the more he found himself on the receiving end of them. Then, to top it all off, what he did to Headhunter? He clenches his jaw.

—:—

Given the sensitive nature of the assignment, Victor chooses to report to Oswald in person once he returns to town. He heads for the Van Dahl estate rather than wait for their customary afternoon briefing at the Iceberg Lounge.  
  
When Victor arrives, he finds the car gone and surmises Olga’s left for the grocer’s. She’s the only one who’d be up this time of day. His security detail nods as he passes them to enter from the back through the kitchen. Zsasz finds the oven still warm. He strides over to the island to grab a couple of Olga’s blueberry muffins off the cooling rack. He peels the paper off the first one and consumes it in two huge bites.  
  
Zsasz begins work on the second one. This time, he leans against the island so he can take some time to enjoy it. As he pulls the paper away, he’s surprised to hear Oswald’s familiar shuffle around the mansion so early in the day. Victor takes a little time to relish the second muffin before tossing the paper in the waste bin and seeking him out.

Victor recognizes the intro to Holiday’s iconic song on his way to the parlor. When he arrives at the doorway, he stops and silently watches Penguin stand before his victrola, lost in thought.

True to form, Oswald is dressed to the nines. The morning light filtering through the windows showcases the richness of his suit and accentuates the brighter accents of his brocade tie. It also reveals the signs of fatigue and exhaustion on his face. It reminds Victor of the time Tabitha killed his mother and Theo drove him into the shadows, making him Gotham’s Public Enemy No. 1.

Zsasz has seen the boss alone in thought many times over the years, often accompanying him to various meetings around town and working many long hours with him. However, during those times, Penguin was always acutely aware that he was close by and behaved accordingly. It’s rare for Victor to catch such an intimate glimpse of him without his knowledge.

Because the kingpin believes he’s alone, he doesn’t bother with his usual pretense or posturing. Despite his exquisite tailoring and painstakingly styled image, Oswald appears haggard, fragile and delicate.

Victor watches the man stare off into some faraway distance until Holiday’s singing begins. The way he sways to the music, closes his eyes and reverently mouths the lyrics reveal his intimate familiarity with the song.

Before long, Oswald stops swaying and becomes rigid. He suddenly grabs a nearby vase and throws it against a wall. After it falls to the floor in pieces, Victor quips.

“Maybe you should try Nina Simone’s cover instead. It’s better anyway.”

Startled, Penguin suddenly spins around to face him. Victor takes it as his cue to approach.

“It’s done, boss. Everything went according to plan without a hitch. The kid’s safe.”

Victor watches as Penguin begins displaying his customary affectations, puffing out his chest and squaring his jaw. He knows Oswald’s confident tone and decorous manner of speech are certain to follow.

“That is why I entrusted Martín with you. I knew you would not fail me. I cannot thank you enough, Victor.”

After addressing his lieutenant, Oswald gazes down to the broken vase. His eyes and mouth slowly widen in horror before anxiously hollering for Olga.

Victor narrows his brow and tilts his head at the emotional response. He’s watched Penguin destroy countless things over the years with nary a thought given to the damage left in his wake.

“She’s not here.”

When Oswald begins hobbling towards the broken pieces, Víctor follows. Penguin begins anxiously muttering to himself.

“I need her to collect the pieces of this vase and see what can be done about repairing…”

“Relax, boss. You can get another one.”

Oswald spins around and retorts.

“No, Victor. I can’t. While I can certainly purchase a similar one, the fact remains that I cannot replace _this_ one. This vase belonged to my father and now, just like him, it’s forever lost to me.”

Zsasz watches Oswald’s veneer begin to crack. His posturing and affectations fall away. Soon, all that stands before him is a frantic and distraught man. When he observes Oswald turn to bend down and collect the broken pieces, he reaches out to assist. The crime lord defensively spins around and draws back a fist in response. Victor reflexively grabs his forearm and holds it in place.

Oswald looks down at his arm trapped in Zsasz’s hand before returning his gaze to the assassin. He gives Victor an angry stare, hardens his mouth and squares his jaw. He attempts to wrestle his arm free, but is chagrined to discover he hasn’t the strength to free himself from Victor’s powerful vise-like grip.

[Zsasz unblinkingly stares down at Penguin and watches as he twitches and struggles against him. The kingpin’s face flushes with anger and embarrassment. Oswald hardens his tone and snarls.](https://shirl85.tumblr.com/post/171381078083/fast-sketch-based-on-the-amazing-fic-of)

“That’s quite enough, Victor.”

Victor neither replies nor releases his forearm. Instead, he gazes down at Oswald and meticulously studies him. He observes the telltale signs of confusion, panic and (curiously) arousal just past the surface of the man’s posturing. Zsasz gauges Penguin’s quickening breath, accelerated pulse and stirring erection as he struggles for control of his forearm like a panicked animal trapped in a snare.

It uncoils something inside Victor.

Penguin’s eyes dart nervously back and forth as Victor raises his other hand up to caress the side of his face. He flinches as if he’s been scalded despite the surprising tenderness of the touch. He peers up and watches as Zsasz softens his brow and follows the path of his hand with his eyes. The act is so intimate, Oswald finds himself unable to breathe.

Zsasz returns his gaze to Oswald. The moment he makes eye contact, his eyes flash and face turns predacious. He retracts his facial muscles and hardens his jaw before growling.

“Take off your clothes.”

Penguin is dumbfounded. He finds himself unable to move even after Victor releases him. Paralyzed, he blinks in stunned silence at his newly-freed arm. Oswald peers back up at Victor.

When their eyes meet again, Zsasz takes the hand he used to caress Penguin’s face and slowly begins curling his fingers around his neck. The sensation causes Oswald to stiffen more. His mouth becomes dry at the realization.

Victor stares down at him with hungry eyes and leans in uncomfortably close. He tilts his head to look down at Oswald’s arousal before addressing him with chilling menace.

“Don’t make me tell you twice.”

Oswald’s heart pounds in his chest. His body’s betrayal is now painfully evident. Even after Victor releases his neck, he finds it impossible to get enough air or adequately regain control of his body. Oswald gazes at the floor as he shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it on the back of a nearby chair. He hesitantly reaches to loosen and remove his brocade tie.

[ _...My man don't love me_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jf0ldEBBJhY)  
[ _Treats me oh so mean_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jf0ldEBBJhY)  
[ _My man he don't love me_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jf0ldEBBJhY)  
[ _Treats me awfully_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jf0ldEBBJhY)  
[ _He's the lowest man_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jf0ldEBBJhY)  
[ _That I've ever seen…_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jf0ldEBBJhY)

With sweaty palms, Oswald begins unbuttoning his waistcoat and hangs it atop his jacket. Zsasz watches Penguin’s well-practiced hands struggle to unfasten his cufflinks and shirt buttons. When his trembling fingers arrive at the last button just above his trousers, he swallows and dares a glance back up at Victor.

The assassin locks eyes with the kingpin before pointedly staring down at his arousal, slowly blinking once and returning a rapacious stare.

Oswald shyly slips down his suspenders, removes his shirt and hangs it over the back of the chair. He closes his eyes and slowly begins unfastening his trousers. He takes a deep ragged breath before he allows them to fall to his ankles in a heap. As he stands unveiled before Victor, he feels his body’s betrayal strain more against the fabric of his silk boxers.

Victor snarls.

“All of them.”

With trembling fingers, Oswald reaches for his waistband. He pulls it up and over his tenting arousal before he painstakingly slides the undergarment down past his knees. He bends over as he does —attempting to hide himself if only for a moment. Oswald slowly stands back up with as much dignity as he can muster despite the quaking in his body and his unmistakable erection.

Victor begins circling the smaller man and appraising him. Zsasz unabashedly rakes his eyes all over Oswald’s nude body. As he does, he unfastens his leather gloves and tosses them to the seat of the chair with Oswald’s clothing.

Zsasz stands behind Penguin and reaches out to explore his body with his hands. Oswald trembles at the touch. The assassin begins with the man’s freckled shoulders and slowly drags his hands down his arms. When the fine hairs of the smaller man’s body stand on end, they capture some of the morning light. It imbues his alabaster skin with a warm radiance.

Victor meticulously studies Oswald’s landscape. Penguin trembles and gasps as he traces every scar on his shoulders, back, buttocks and backs of his legs with his finger pads before returning to face him.

When Victor stands before him once more, Penguin feels the heat on his face. When he gathers enough courage to look back up at the taller man, he’s relieved to find he doesn’t meet his eyes. He watches nervously as Victor wantonly scrutinizes his body.

Zsasz begins mapping the front of Penguin’s body just as he did the back. He fingers the hollows of Oswald’s collarbone and slowly drags his finger pads down his pecs before briefly alighting on his taut pink nipples. Penguin can feel the flush of his face creep down and follow Victor’s fingertips.

The henchman advances further. He strokes Penguin’s obliques and traces the hollows of his ribcage with his thumbs. Zsasz’s hands descend until they perch on the smaller man’s hips. They jerk in response. Oswald breathlessly watches as Zsasz descends to kneel before him.

Victor settles back on his heels and continues exploring Penguin’s body. He runs his hands down his thighs and traces more scars until he arrives upon Oswald’s ravaged right knee and lower leg. When he does, he removes his hand from Penguin’s left leg so he can use both hands to explore the taut, smooth and inflexible scar tissue. Once satisfied, Victor returns both hands to either side of Oswald’s knees.

Oswald watches with astonishment when Victor rises back off his heels to kneel before him. He quivers when Zsasz’s hands return to the hollows of his hips and he feels the faint warm puffs of Victor’s breath against his body. When Penguin observes him closing his eyes and leaning forward, his arousal twitches with anticipation.

Penguin trembles and gasps as the kneeling man slowly closes in. His chest heaves as the assassin tenderly presses a chaste kiss on the scar tissue marking the spot where Edward shot him. Afterwards, Zsasz reverently touches the tender pink flesh and sighs.

“You, Oswald Cobblepot, are exquisitely broken.”

Zsasz slowly presses one more kiss on the cicatrix before reaching down to gather Oswald’s felled trousers and boxers. As hot tears spill from Penguin’s lashes, the only sound is the quiet, rhythmic static signalling the album’s conclusion.

Victor stands and returns Oswald’s trousers to his hips. He gathers his shirt and waistcoat. Zsasz helps him back into his clothes, assisting him with his buttons and cufflinks. He smooths down any visible wrinkles before finally handing Oswald his jacket.

Penguin wipes his tear-stained face before slipping his arms into his jacket. He hardens his jaw, squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest. He can’t bring himself to look back up at Victor before limping out the parlor.

—:—

Later that afternoon, Victor returns to his place in the city. His three most trusted women, Egypt, Saffronia and Xoc, apprise him of the contracts they’ve either carried out or overseen while he and his men have worked exclusively for Penguin. When they inquire about the box he’s carrying, he casually opens it and shrugs.

“Oh. Oswald broke his vase. Xoc, does your girlfriend still do kintsukuroi?”

The wiry, mohawked Latina blinks in surprise before pulling out her phone.

“Uh, yeah. She’s the gallery’s best. I’ll text you her number.”

Once he feels the buzz in his pocket, he thanks her and immediately calls the woman before heading to his quarters. Once the three women hear the thud of a heavy door, they all turn to one another and reply in unison.

_“Oswald?”_

—:—

The next day when Zsasz heads back out to work, his henchwomen notice a spring in his step. Victor reveals Don Falcone is returning to Gotham to officially declare the city is now Cobblepot’s.

He looks forward to seeing Don Falcone at the assemblage. His return to the Falcone estate feels like a homecoming of sorts. To top it all off, Victor even manages to get the jump on the stealthy Selina Kyle.

Before Zsasz and his crew leave with Penguin, he manages a private moment with the great man. He beams with pride when the mob boss turns to him and places a hand on his shoulder before warmly shaking his hand to commend him on his success.

“I had faith you would do well for yourself, young man. You have a promising future. I’m very proud of you, Victor.”

—:—

Sadly, it takes no time for things to unravel. Don Falcone is gunned down on the estate grounds not long after Victor and his men return to the Iceberg Lounge with Penguin. Jim Gordon and Sofia Falcone narrowly escape with their lives.

Penguin denies complicity in the assassination, but Victor finds it impossible to ignore the chatter on the street. He’s known Oswald for years and is well aware of his propensity for lying and manipulation. His gnawing doubts only grow as Penguin becomes more withdrawn, secretive and defensive.

_“Victor, I did not kill Don Falcone.... My hands are clean. You have my word!”_

Zsasz can practically hear his bubbie’s voice.

_"If his word were a bridge, I'd be afraid to cross it."_

Then comes the funeral. Seeing the great Don Falcone in that casket proves too much for Victor. It’s what ultimately drives him to contact Sofia Falcone shortly afterward to disclose the truth about the kid: he’s alive, but far away from Gotham in a safe place where no one will find him. He follows her instructions and carries out the betrayal that ultimately sent Penguin to Arkham.

“What’s to tell? You blew that kid sky high.”

“What?”

“You sent that pipsqueak to kingdom come.”

“No. That’s not true.”

“And I’ll testify to that.”

“What?”

“Look, I ain’t takin’ the rap for no kid murder.”

“NO!”

Victor returns to his place in the city after posting bond. He storms through the door with a darkened expression before he intones.

“We no longer work for Penguin. We are now in the service of Donna Sofia Falcone.”

All three women soberly nod in response.

—:—

About a week later, Xoc returns from a hit at the opera house wearing a tux and carrying a fancy black gift box. She waves it at Saffronia and Egypt before she wryly remarks.

“Romeo’s vase is finished. Is he here?”

The tall, beautiful sisters exchange a grim look before tilting their heads toward Zsasz’s quarters.

Xoc takes a deep breath before knocking on Victor’s door. After a few moments, he opens it revealing his darkened room. He morosely regards her and her attire before nodding her in. After stepping inside, she turns to face him and hands him the box.

Victor looks down at it but doesn’t open it. He furrows his brow and clenches his jaw.

After a long silence, the woman gently takes it from his hands and places it atop his nightstand. When she returns, she looks deeply into Victor’s eyes, takes his hand and places it up to her neck.

She later ignores Oswald’s quietly whispered name when Zsasz spills into her with his final thrust.

—>::<—

Many eventful weeks later, Oswald is thrilled to return to the Van Dahl mansion late one night. So many remarkable moments have led to this homecoming: his escape from Arkham, dancing with that devil, Jerome Valeska, in the pale moonlight, the surprising and critical assistance he received from ~~Rid~~ —Ed…. Who knows what new form their relationship will take? And now (of all people), little Ivy Pepper —rather, _Poison_ Ivy, terrorizing Gotham?

Sofia and Zsasz made a grave mistake underestimating him, as well as his connections and influence in the city. Penguin’s return to the throne was well within reach, even despite all the whispers about The Bat. He chuckles smugly as he pours himself some top shelf before celebrating with some music.

A fire crackles quietly as Penguin hobbles to the victrola. He sees an album cover he doesn’t recognize. He blinks in astonishment when he discovers it’s Nina Simone’s “Let it All Out”. He turns it over to read the track list and quietly gasps when his eyes reach the fourth song.

Oswald sets down his drink on the marble-topped table and carefully removes the album from its sleeve. He places it on the turntable, starts it and rests the needle on the fourth track.

The slower tempo and sparse instrumentation of Simone’s lone piano, an upright bass and barely audible percussion heighten the drama of the familiar opening. [Nina’s voice crackles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xBBpOPDm8s).

_Hush now…_

A lone flute answers.

_Don’t explain_

_There ain’t nothin’ to gain_

_I'm glad that you're back, don't explain..._

Oswald listens in reverent silence. When he slowly reaches for his tumbler, he notices the black gift box he overlooked in the long flickering shadows of the darkened room. It has a seal from one of Gotham’s finest art galleries.

He circumspectly opens the box and pulls back the tissue paper. He suddenly raises his hand to his mouth the moment he recognizes the top of his father’s vase. He carefully slides out the piece in astonishment.

His jaw slackens when he takes in how beautifully the piece is reassembled. He solemnly runs his fingers along the golden sutures that now join the broken pieces.

A familiar voice interrupts.

“You need anything else from me, boss?”

Penguin shakes his head and blinks for a moment before looking up to the entrance of the parlor. He distractedly replies.

“No, Butch. Thank you. That will be all. Goodnight.”

Penguin finds a brochure in the box.

_Kintsugi or kintsukuroi is known as “golden joinery” or “golden repair”. It is a method used to repair broken pottery and ceramics using lacquer dusted with precious metals like silver, platinum or gold. The practice originated in Japan more than 500 years ago. It seeks to commemorate an object’s break rather than hide or obscure it._

_We hope you grow to treasure your breaks as much as we do._

Oswald spies a heavy linen card from the gallery along the inside of the box. It appears someone slid it in after it was sealed. On the back of it, he finds a short handwritten note.

_For the beautifully broken one. —Z_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I thought kintsugi was a lovely analogy, not just for Oswald, but for all of us. Each of us has scars and broken pieces that we’ve repaired over the years or are still in the process of repairing. Although our breaks are incredibly painful when we first experience them, they oftentimes come to add to our overall beauty and strength.
> 
> A few things inspired this fic, but [Thom Yorke’s “Black Swan”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wepAxJ6BN30) track was the impetus. 
> 
> “...This is your blind spot, blind spot  
> It should be obvious but it's not...
> 
> I don't care what the future holds  
> ‘Cause I'm right here in your arms today  
> With your fingers you can touch me
> 
> I'm your black swan, black swan  
> But I made it to the top, made it to the top  
> This is fucked up, fucked up…”
> 
> (I also feel Yorke’s “Cymbal Rush” [the final track on his Eraser album] pairs nicely with it, and honestly. What a song.)
> 
> These songs inspired this fic, but when I saw that the lovely and ridiculously-talented Verovex reblogged oswaldgaybblepot’s Tumblr post about “true strength”, I was utterly convinced I had to write this piece.  
> [http://oswaldgaybblepot.tumblr.com/post/170784274312/that-is-true-strength](url)
> 
> What else? The Nina Simone and Billie Holiday. Right. I’m old and don’t tend to listen to music unless it’s stood the test of time. I personally prefer male vocalists over female, but consider myself a big fan of these legendary women. I first heard Holiday’s “Don’t Explain” decades ago and loved it. However, it wasn’t until I later heard [Nina’s cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xBBpOPDm8s) that I was truly staggered by its haunting beauty. If you haven’t heard them, I highly recommend you do. 
> 
> Wait! Some of you may recognize the additional lyrics I included from “Fine and Mellow”. (It’s also one of my personal faves.)
> 
> Those Zsaszettes? I made them up as you guessed. If you want more of an idea of how I envision them (especially Saffronia and Egypt), check out my “If 6 Was 9” fic. (Sorry not sorry for the shameless self-promotion.)
> 
> Finally, that line about “dancing with the devil, Jerome Valeska, in the pale moonlight”? It’s a nod to thejizzler and their most recent Jeromewald work, “When the Shadows Play”. Check it out. 
> 
> Oh. And another thing. The always lovely and crazy-talented Shirl85 was kind enough to illustrate a scene from this story. (I still get verklempt about it.) There's a link within the story or you can check it out here and tell her how much you love it. You're amazing, sistah! I LOVE YOU!  
> [https://shirl85.tumblr.com/post/171381078083/fast-sketch-based-on-the-amazing-fic-of](url)
> 
> As usual, I had no beta reader, so TAG! You’re IT! YOU are my beta reader(s)! That means if you made the mistake of reading this, you gotta tell me of any mistakes to which I subjected you so I can fix ‘em. Lucky you!
> 
> Last but not least, I appreciate all y’all who read this story. Really. Thank you, kindly.


End file.
